


Molting

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, M/M, Pissy Cas, Smut, Top Dean, Wing Kink, molting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:46:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is molting and needs someone to groom him. Dean is happy to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molting

Castiel has been acting strangely. Definitely more. . . irritable. Every question or statement directed toward the angel has been answered by a snippy, sarcastic response and a lot of eye rolling. Sam's calling him a celestial teenager. It's been going on for a week and a half, Dean's had enough. So of course, the only logical thing to do is demand answers from a pissy angel that could absolutely kill him if he really wanted to.

"Cas, we need to talk." Cas looks up from his book, an annoyed scowl already plastered on his face. He purses his lips in a way that says, "I'm only tolerating you right now because I don't know whether or not I can get away with murder."

"We don't _need_ to talk about _anything_ ," Cas snaps. "Maybe if you use some _manners_ and show some _respect_ , I'll discuss whatever's bouncing around in that tiny brain of yours right now, _assbutt_." Dean clenches his jaw and fists, counting to one hundred in his head before closing the door.

"Castiel, oh mighty angel warrior, will you pretty please with ice cream on top talk to me?" he hisses through his teeth. Cas purposely takes his time in setting his book down, making sure his bookmark is _just so_ on the page, etc, etc. Then he adjusts himself on his bed before steepling his fingers and nodding as a "go ahead." "Cas, you've been acting like a grade A jackass. Are you okay?" Cas scowls.

"'M fine," he mumbles, glaring at his lap. Dean reaches over and puts two fingers under Cas' chin, tilting it up and forcing the angel to look him in the eye. He sighs. "Fine. Fine, okay. I'll tell you. _I'm molting._ Happy now?" Dean stares at the angel in confusion. "It means I'm shedding from my wings, essentially."

"Does it. . . hurt?" asks Dean, peering over Cas's shoulder as if he might get a glimpse of the dark wings. Cas shifts uneasily under the hunter's gaze.

"It _is_ very uncomfortable," he replies. "The feathers get stuck in place because of the oil glands overproducing. It's itchy and sometimes the ends poke me. With grooming, it lasts about three days. Without, it can last up to a month." Dean nods.

"Well, can't you groom yourself?" he asks. Cas shakes his head. "Oh." He pauses. "Um, d-do you want me to. . .?" Cas straightens.

"Only if you want to," he says. "But I should tell you, my wings are very sensitive." He leans closer to further illustrate his point. " _Very_ sensitive." He raises his eyebrows, hoping to Dad that Dean is catching his drift.

"Alright Cas," says Dean, a bit more hesitantly. "I'll be careful. I won't hurt you." Cas nods and takes off his shirt. The air shimmers around his shoulder blades and two messy, oily, black wings appear, five feet across. Dean sits down behind him and stares at the feathered appendages in awe. Gently, he stretches out his hand and runs it through the slick, sticky mess. Cas shudders violently and Dean pulls his hand back as if burned. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?" he asks, concerned. Cas shakes his head.

"N-no," he breathes. "It feels. . . _amazing_." Dean nods and continues, picking out stray feathers and soothing Cas's sore skin every few moments with the excess oil. With every touch, the angel comes apart a bit more, mewling and moaning. By the time his wings are all neat and clean, Cas is a sobbing, shuddering mess and Dean is sporting a raging hard on. "D-dean," Cas whimpers.

"Cas," Dean whispers huskily, "what would you do if I kissed you?" Cas shivers, turning to face the hunter.

"I think," he murmurs, half-lidded eyes never leaving Dean's, "I might go a little insane." That's all it takes for Dean to crash his lips onto Cas's. Cas moans and melts into Dean's arms, wanting to be as close as possible to the hunter. Dean pulls him into his lap, combing his fingers through the dark wings again. "D-dean, Dean," Cas murmurs into his neck, almost like a prayer.

"Cas," Dean replies, almost an afterthought, pulling the smaller man's pants and boxers off in one go. With one hand still in the left wing, he begins to kiss down Cas's chest, licking at his nipples and eliciting a loud moan. Suddenly, Cas sits up and frowns. "What? What's wrong?"

"You're still dressed." Dean throws his head back and laughs loudly. Quickly, he squirms out of his clothes and presses himself back down onto Cas. Except Cas isn't having any of that. He flips them both over, putting himself on top and grinding his crotch down onto Dean's. The man groans, bucking his hips up, desperate for more friction.

"God, Cas," he whispers. "Want more of you. Wanna be inside you." Cas whines and, apparently deciding that the top isn't for him, flips them over again. "Lube?" Cas laughs.

"All over my back." Dean chuckles. He slides a hand just underneath a wing and, after gathering some oil, slides a slick finger into Cas's tight, puckered hole. Cas hisses with the pain, but relaxes when he adjusts. Dean pumps it in and out a few times before adding another finger, and then one other. Soon, he's shaking and moaning as Dean hits his prostate again and again. "Dean, Dean, I-I can't take anymore. I need you."

"Alright, shh babe," Dean replies. "I've got you." He collects as much oil as he can and lubes up his dick before slowly pressing it in. Cas flinches at the slight burn, then sighs in contentment when Dean bottoms out. Dean pauses, waiting for Cas to say it's okay for him to move.

"Fuck Dean, _move_!" Cas groans. Dean smiles and slowly begins to pull out, pushing in slowly when he's almost all the way out. Out, in, out, in. Dean works up to a rhythm that has both of them moaning and gasping for breath. It isn't long before Dean feels that familiar tug in his gut.

"Cas, I'm gonna-" Dean moans loudly, glad that Sam is on a solo hunt. "Cas, I'm so close." Cas grunts and nods as Dean slams into him, hitting his prostate every time.

"Me too," he pants. Suddenly, his back arches off of the bed as white streams of cum land on his stomach. A few seconds later, Cas can feel Dean's cum filling him up as the hunter keeps up a slightly sloppy rhythm. Then, Dean stills and slowly pulls out. Cas whines at the empty feeling until his hunter lies down beside him, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around him. It isn't long before Cas hears Dean's quiet snores in his ear.

They'll have a lot to talk about when he wakes up.

 


End file.
